Marvel's Exiles: Overture
by gscrap
Summary: Six unlikely companions are press-ganged into an impossible quest to save the omniverse. Just an ordinary day, right? Original characters based on alternate versions of the Marvel universe. Rated T for vaguely grown-up themes.
1. Chapter 1

An endless, curveless horizon stretched away in every direction: nothing but bright blue sky and pale green grass. It had always been this way, if anything has always been. Like the dilation of an enormous pupil, a circle of blackness opened in the air, its two-dimensional profile at an angle oblique to the flat ground. It hung for only a moment before the woman dropped from it, pulled to the ground with a thump by a force remarkably like gravity. As suddenly and silently as it had appeared, the dark circle winked out and was gone.

The woman stood slowly, brushing back her light brown box braids. She slid her polarized glasses off of her nose and looked around her at her wide, grassy surroundings. She tugged a small silver box from where it hung on her bandolier and flicked it open, gazing at the jumble of letters and numbers that scrolled across its tiny screens. Her lips quirked into an irritated frown. Replacing the device in its hanger, she tapped a control at her shoulder with one extended finger.

"Log entry, Bishop, S. Personal sequence mark. Location: absolutely nowhere. Time... absolutely nowhen. My 7D is giving me nothing but gibberish. Could be any prairie, any- wait, something isn't right here. Luke, I don't think I'm alone."

She stopped the recording with another stroke of her finger. She scanned the horizon, turning her body along with her eyes, while her hand drifted slowly to the sidearm strapped at her waist. A flash of movement in the corner of her eye brought her head whipping around, but nothing greeted her eyes but the vast expanse of tall grass. Slowly letting her head come back around, she was startled to see a black dot, about a foot in diameter, hanging in the air immediately in front of her face. As she watched, the steel barrel of an antique revolver came out of the spot and stopped a scant inch from the copper-colored skin of her forehead. A gloved thumb pulled back the hammer on the weapon with a foreboding click.

"Now just you take it easy, missy. I don't want any trouble, so how about you just take that pistol of yours and toss it away real easy-like."

Despite the hand and revolver hanging in the air in front of her, the voice came from behind. Using two fingers, she pulled her sidearm out of its holster and flicked it a few feet to the side. The dot, she reasoned, must be some sort of short-range dimensional portal- most likely routing through the Negative Zone or the Darkforce Dimension. She held her hands at the level of her shoulders, palms open.

"Listen," she said, careful to keep her voice level, "I don't know where I am or how I got here. I've got no zark with you, so if you'd be so kind as to point out the shortest route out of your way, I'd be happy to take it."

For a long moment, there was no sound or movement save the faint waving of the long grass. Then the gun and hand withdrew into the portal, which winked out as quickly as it had appeared. With a slow exhale, Bishop turned around to face the source of the voice that had threatened her. By the clothes, he looked as though he had stepped out of an old Western film, from the broad-brimmed hat to the leather coat that hung down past his knees and the dust-covered boots. The only thing that spoiled the picture was the mask he wore, a white wraparound with an inky black spot that spread across the face. In his right hand, the revolver that had moments before been held to Bishop's head remained trained on her. From the way his left hand hovered at the level of his belt, she guessed a second gun was being hidden from view by the drape of his coat.

"Easy, now," he reiterated, gesturing with his revolver as if to remind her she was still covered. She kept her hands high, where he could clearly see them. She noticed the nervous shuffle of his boots on the ground as he gauged his distance.

"Got a name, cowboy?"

The man hesitated. "They call me Johnny on the Spot."

"Nice to meet you, Johnny," she said coolly. "This may strike you as a weird question, but what year is it?"

"Well, I-" he began.

"Johnny, behind you!"

The new figure had appeared so suddenly, the words were out of Bishop's mouth before she could fully consider whose side she wanted to be on. The cowboy whirled, drawing his second revolver from its hip holster. Before he could raise his guns, he froze, the tip of a long, straight sword at his throat. The sword was held in the gloved hand of a young woman in a green and white-colored iteration of the clinging garb of a superhero, a green hooded cloak tied over her head and shoulders

Keeping her hands raised where the other woman could see them, Bishop cleared her throat. "Look," she said, "I think it's pretty clear that none of us know what's going on here. Can we all just put down the weapons and try to figure this out?"

Johnny on the Spot slowly raised his hands, releasing his grip on his guns so they hung loose and unusable from his index fingers. "That sounds like a damn good idea, miss." His face remained turned toward his assailant as he took a slow step back, away from the tip of her blade. With a soft grunt, the woman lowered her sword.

"Alright then," Bishop continued. "First things first. My name is Shard Bishop, and I'm an officer of the Time Variance Authority. I don't know how I got to wherever this is, but judging by your clothes, I'm going to guess someone has been messing with the Timestream. Wait- I know you…"

The woman in green had pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing a short scruff of auburn hair with a shock of pure white running through it. She had a lean, hard look with heavy eyebrows and hollow cheeks. Bishop's dark eyes flicked to Johnny for a second before returning to settle on the woman's face.

"...your codename is Rogue. An X-Man of the early 2000s."

The woman barked a short, dry laugh. She sheathed her sword, allowing her eyes to linger on Bishop's hands. "Rogue is right, but I haven't been an X-Man for years."

"Well I'm right glad y'all seem to know each other, but I'm still trailin' behind here." Johnny shoved his guns back into their holsters. "Last I checked, it was 1886, and there weren't no such thing as a Time Variance Authority. So what in the hell is going on here, and where in the hell are we?"

"I'll tell you one thing," Bishop answered, looking back and forth between her two accidental companions. "We aren't on Earth."

There was a brief moment of silence. "Very dramatic," smirked Rogue.

"Of course we're on Earth. D'you think they got green grass on Mars?" rejoined Johnny.

"What time would you say it is, Johnny?"

"Well, I-" the cowboy paused, craning his neck around to look at the the sky in every direction. There was a long pause. "Well, shoot, where's the sun at?"

"I was just wondering that myself," a fourth voice entered into the conversation, causing all three to turn toward the source. Standing where there had clearly not been anyone standing before was an attractive, blonde-haired woman in a white costume. She paused a few seconds to let the surprise wear off. "Midday levels of illumination with no visible source. It's not physically possible in outdoor conditions in our universe. Or universes, I suspect."

Bishop's eyes danced in her head. "Susan Richards," she whispered to herself. "Double-alpha priority." Addressing herself to the new arrival, she proffered a hand. "Mrs. Richards, it's an honor to meet you."

"It's 'Storm,'" Susan said, taking the woman's hand and shaking it perfunctorily. "And it's 'Doctor.' Though the mistake adds credence to my hypothesis that we're arriving here from different parallel universes. I'd ask who each of you is, but I imagine there are more of us coming and there's no sense repeating introductions ad infinitum."

For a span of several long, awkward seconds, there was silence. With a questioning eye on Johnny and Rogue, Bishop bent over to pick up her sidearm, returning it to the holster on her hip. At the same time, she replaced her dark glasses over her eyes. The four stood, carefully regarding each other, and waiting for something to happen.

Like the visual representation of a sigh of relief, another black circle opened in mid-air just long enough for a teen-aged girl to drop out of it. She fell through the air only a few feet before catching herself and flying up, no part of her having touched the ground. Bishop turned to Johnny on the Spot, her expression suspicious. "Johnny, you controlled that portal before. Are you doing this?"

"No ma'am!" the cowboy exclaimed as the teenager flew in a smooth circle around the group. Her black hair was bound up in a stubby ponytail and her multicolored costume sparkled.

"Just what's going on here, I'd like to know! When my- Aunt Sue!" Without warning, the girl zoomed in on Doctor Storm, catching her in a tight adolescent hug. Even in the embrace, her feet hovered off of the ground.

"Take it easy, little one. I'm sorry to say, I'm not your aunt. My only sibling is twenty-four years old, and you're at least sixteen. Not even Johnny Storm could have managed that."

The girl looked up at the woman she recognized as her aunt, her lower lip pouting with confusion. "Wait, what? Oh. Ohhh. Time traveler, or alternate universe?"

"Alternate universes, I suspect."

"Ohhhh. Um. Sorry, Aunt Sue. I mean. Ma'am." Reluctantly, she relinquished the older woman from her grasp. "This is weird. I mean, this is weird, right?"

Silently, the four adults gathered around her nodded. "I'm plumb confused" added Johnny, helpfully.

After a moment's silence, Susan piped up. "If you're my brother's daughter, may I ask who your mother is?"

"Don't have one." The teenager hovered patiently in mid-air.

"You mean you don't have a mother? I don't understand."

"Two dads. Johnny Storm and Jean-Paul Beaubier. Northstar? From Alpha Flight? I guess in your world they aren't gay, huh?"

It may well be speculated how long the uncomfortable silence might have dragged on, had another portal not opened at that moment, dropping a sixth figure into their midst. The ground shook slightly at the impact of the massive body. With a grunt, he pushed himself upright, towering over the others at a height of at least seven feet. Inhumanly bulky arms stretched out from a red breastplate with a bowl-shaped helmet obscuring the head above.

"Juggernaut," muttered Rogue, drawing her sword.

"Cain Marko," answered Bishop, her sidearm appearing in her hand.

Doctor Storm raised her her hands defensively toward the new arrival, unseen walls of force spreading out from her outstretched fingers. "Get behind me," she instructed her might-have-been niece.

The Juggernaut raised his meaty hands in protest. "Whoa, hold on. I don't know what's happening here yet." The voice had a faintly electronic sound, as if it were being processed through a microphone and speaker. "I'm the Juggernaut, alright, but I don't know who this Cain guy is. My name's…"

With a whirr, hydraulic locks on the man's shoulders released and he lifted the dome-shaped helmet off of his head to reveal an impossibly thick neck, a black horseshoe moustache, and a swoop of lustrous black hair.

"Tony Stark." Doctor Storm whispered in amazement.

"This, I've got to hear," smiled the teenager from behind her.

"I'm afraid, with the exception of Mrs. Richards, you've all got me at a disadvantage." Stark flashed a broad smile, insensible to the roll of Susan Storm's eyes just off to the side.

"We've been saving introductions until people stopped showing up," offered Bishop, holstering her weapon yet again. "Rest assured, we're all just as confused as you are."

"I guess that's my cue to start clearing things up," interjected a voice from the level of their waists. Looking around for the source of the voice, each pair of eyes fell on a three-and-a-half-foot tall anthropomorphic duck in a shabby brown suit. An unlit cigar was clenched in his cartoonish bill.

"And Howard the Duck makes seven," quipped Rogue. "Who's next? Stilt-Man?"

"Nope," the duck answered. "No one else; you're it, ladies and gents. You can call me the Timebroker, and I'm your guide to this exciting new adventure you've been press-ganged into. You've got questions, I know, but let's get the obvious ones out of the way. Yes, you're all from different realities. Similar to one another in a lot of respects, different in a few. Each of you is here because you've become unhinged from time." He chewed his cigar for a moment, glancing around.

"What does that mean, unhinged from time?" demanded Doctor Storm.

"It means it means that the omniverse- that's the fabric of all realities existing across all times- is deeply and complexly interwoven. Thanks to time travel and interdimensional travel and metaphysics too intricate to do justice to in the time we've got, every reality is connected to thousands or millions of others. A butterfly flaps its wings in universe A, and Hitler wins the second World War in universe B. Times a quadrillion. Right now, the omniverse is suffering a cascade failure- things aren't happening the way they're supposed to happen and it's affecting reality after reality. Unfortunately for you, the past of each of your universes has been affected. All of you have been effectively wiped out of existence by events that failed to take place in your world, and countless others before."

The dark-haired teenager floated in the air near Johnny on the Spot. "You following any of this, cowboy?" she asked.

"I reckon I got most of it... but is it just me, or is the little duck mixin' his metaphors somethin' fierce?"

Casting an irritated glance toward the two talkers, the Timebroker continued. "If we hadn't pulled you out of the timestream, you'd be gone now. Not dead, mind you, but never having come into existence in your present forms. You would never have been. But there's hope! If we can stop the cascade failure and get things back on track, we should be able to put your universes right again. We just need to find where and when a universe goes off the rails, and give it the just the right nudge back on track. That stops that universe from affecting other universes, and with a little luck and a lotta hard work, maybe we can get things back the way they're supposed to be. Then we pop you back into your individual lives, and this whole thing is just a memory."

"Wait just a minute. Who's 'we'?" asked Bishop. "And who are you?"

"Like I said, I'm the Timebroker. I'm a living program run on a computer more vast and complicated than you could possibly conceptualize. When I say 'we,' I'm basically talking about that computer. Myself and its other functions."

"So why do you look like a talking duck with pants?" inquired the Juggernaut.

The Timebroker looked down at himself as if noticing his body for the first time."To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure. I expect it's got more to do with your collective subconsciouses than anything on our end. But we shouldn't be wasting time talking about me. After this little tete-a-tete, you aren't going to be seeing much of me. Let's talk about you. Get comfortable."

As if by magic, a tasteful living room set appeared on the endless plain. A gigantic flatscreen television hovered in midair nearby. None of the unwilling companions moved to take a seat, and the Timebroker shrugged.

"Suit yourselves," he said. "This is the 'getting to know you' portion of the program. A little highlight reel so you know who you're going to be working with. I'll handle the narration, so keep the peanut gallery routine down."

As he spoke, the television screen behind him blazed with light. Images matching his words showed across the screen, showing moments from the lives of the six gathered.

"He is Jonathan Ohnn, an inventor years ahead of his time. After an accident during an early experiment in wireless telegraphy, he gained the ability to create and control portals to another dimension. Taking advantage of his new powers, he became the infamous superbandit Johnny on the Spot, leader of a criminal gang notorious throughout the West."

Lacking, as he did, a discernable face, it would be difficult for anyone to judge Johnny's reaction to the story of his life being told in this manner. His head turned from side to side to take in the mix of wonder and dismay played across the faces of his companions. Dispassionately, the Timebroker continued.

"Madeleine Beaubier-Storm was a child born from the love of her two fathers, Northstar and the Human Torch. Raised among the greatest heroes of her world, she had the best teachers and the most fervent protectors of any child in any reality. She is beloved by the world, a symbol of hope not only for families of gay parents, but for relations among mutants and humans, and even between America and Canada."

"Spreading it a little thick, ain'tcha, Duckie?" Madeleine asked.

"I just tell it like it is, kid. Moving on. Shard Bishop was born in a utopian time, free of hatred, war and hunger. Along with her older brother Luke, her natural mutant talents permitted her entry into the elite ranks of the Time Variance Authority, a task force charged with preventing disturbances to her world's time stream." The screen showed scenes of the two athletic young officers engaging in the practice of their profession, battling and arresting the likes of Trevor Fitzroy and Kang the Conqueror. Bishop allowed a satisfied smirk to appear briefly at the corner of her lips, before losing it again in a pensive frown.

"Susan Storm possessed the kind of mind that can be found perhaps once in a century- a polymath of the highest order, and an unparallelled genius in theoretical physics. After stealing an experimental rocket of her own design, she, her brother, her boyfriend and his best friend, were exposed to cosmic rays that awakened in them unfathomable power. Together they became the Fantastic Four, the first and foremost of an age of heroes. Although she has since left the team and focused her attention on science, rather than heroism, Doctor Storm has saved her world more times than can be counted."

Seemingly unconcerned with the images on the screen, Susan took the opportunity to watch the expressions of the others, lingering on Bishop and Madeleine. In their widened eyes, she saw the paradigm readjustment that confirmed her expectations. With an almost imperceptible scowl, she turned back to the Timebroker's introductions.

"The mysterious mutant known as Rogue had a brief heroic career as a member of the X-Men, before a fateful encounter with the villainous Taskmaster left her permanently in possession of his memories, his personality, and his eidetic reflexes. Faced with new internal conflicts she had never imagined, Rogue left the X-Men and became a successful mercenary for hire." During the brief clips of hand-to-hand combat that passed over the wide screen, Rogue displayed a dizzying array of techniques to put the most dedicated martial artists to shame.

The screen showed a young Anthony Stark crash-landing a plane in dense tropical jungle, discovering a huge red gem on the altar of a ruined temple, and having his body contorted and reshaped into the form of the Juggernaut when he laid his hands on it. "He is Tony Stark, the Unstoppable Juggernaut. Granted mystical powers by an ancient gem embedded in his chest, Stark was able to draw out and focus those energies to power many marvelous inventions. He is the sole developer of weapons for America's military, and one of his nation's greatest heroes."

Rogue leaned close to Doctor Storm's ear and whispered. "Tony Stark's mind in the Juggernaut's body. Can you even imagine?"

"Stark's ego and the Juggernaut's rage…" answered the scientist, just as quietly. "It's a wonder his world isn't a cinder."

As swiftly and silently as it had come into existence, the hovering television disappeared along with the unused furniture. The Timebroker chewed his cigar for a moment, eyeing the assemblage. "So that's the what, and the why and the who. We haven't got long for the how, so I'll cut to the chase. Tracking disturbances across nigh-infinite time throughout nigh-infinite universes takes more energy than you could possibly imagine, so we don't have a lot to spare fixing the problems when we find them. That's where you six come in. We can hijack Wild West Johnny's power to create interdimensional portals and move you to key points in the omniverse. We'll give you whatever information we can about what you need to do through this-"

Above the upturned palm of the Timebroker's right hand, a golden bracer with a large red crystal inset hovered. It sparkled, despite the lack of an identifiable light source.

"-the Tallus. One of you is going to be in charge of wearing this and communicating your missions. Let's see… eenie, meenie, minie, Bishop."

The Tallus disappeared from where it floated and in the same instant, appeared around the left wrist of the TVA officer. She grasped at the cool metal in surprise. "What-?"

"That's it," continued the duck, ignoring Bishop's surprise. "Everyone get ready."

"Wait a minute!" interjected Doctor Storm. "I have questions. The first of which being, what if we don't want to participate in this insane crusade?"

"Hey," answered the Timebroker, "if you'd rather take your chances with nonexistence... but have you thought about what happens to your world without Doctor Susan Storm? No rocket launch. No Fantastic Four. The modern age of heroes never starts. On the eighth of August 2001, Galactus makes landfall in New York City and there is no one to stop him from turning your Earth into a bare rock, utterly devoid of life. You happy with that state of affairs? Are any of you happy with a world in which you're dead, or worse?"

Susan Storm stared into the upturned duck's face, her jaw stoically set but her eyes dancing in barely contained disbelief. The Timebroker cleared his throat with a sound like "waugh," and had the decency to look briefly ashamed.

"I'm sorry to be so blunt. We're aware that the human mind is not built to take in bad news of this magnitude quickly or easily. Suffice it to say that you definitely want to be on our side in this. Besides, you don't really have a choice anyway."

"Ours is not to reason why…" misquoted the Juggernaut.

"You do, or everybody dies." The Timebroker shoved his hands into his pants pockets and spared the uneasy heroes a final look. "It's time for you to go now. We'll be in touch."

If any of the shanghaied superhumans objected to the Timebroker's abrupt dismissal, their words were swallowed by the darkness between dimensions. Black spots slid open around each body and disappeared again, leaving the vast, silent plain as empty as it had always been.

 **To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

Travel through the Darkforce Dimension is infamously cold and, unsurprisingly, dark. Her teeth gritted against the discomfort, Shard Bishop wondered briefly why she could not recall the journey to the mysterious prairie. Had it been like this? Disoriented, featureless and

mind-numbingly cold? With effort, Bishop could turn her head to the side, but she could not see anything in any direction. It was like falling blindfolded, with the accompanying creepy sense that one might hit the ground at any moment.

The abrupt return of gravity and her consequent indelicate landing on solid ground alerted Bishop that she had arrived in normal space. At first, it was not so different from the Darkforce: still dark, still bitterly cold. Her feet and left hand were buried in snow, more than a foot deep. She stood, rubbing her hands together to rid them of the clinging cold. Removing her sunglasses, Bishop could make out her surroundings by starlight. The terrain was rugged, with mountains jutting up into the sky all around. Snow covered nearly every stretch and side she could see, glittering in the pale light from above. She could also see her five fellow travellers nearby, retrieving their own bearings.

As Bishop began to contemplate what their next step might be, a sharp howl of wind cut down through their midst, impressing upon her the urgency of finding some protection from the frigid alpine weather. As if in response to the TVA officer's thoughts, Doctor Storm called out.

"Everyone over here! Gather close!"

It took only moments for the others to comply with Storm's command. It occurred to Bishop to marvel at the ease with which she assumed a leadership role, and how willing the others- Bishop included- were to accept her instructions. Johnny on the Spot was the last to arrive close, clutching his coat around him as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. Abruptly, the wind cut to a muffled whine as a bubble of invisible force enclosed the group.

"Is anybody hurt?" asked Storm. Receiving no replies in the affirmative, she continued. "Can anyone give us some heat?"

"A little," answered Bishop, quickly. "The starlight doesn't give me much, but I should be able to keep us from freezing to death."

"No sweats, I got it." It was the teenaged Madeleine Beaubier-Storm who spoke. Hovering just above the level of the snow, she opened her hand and produced a foot-high fountain of multicolored flames. Immediately, the air in the bubble began to warm, and Bishop felt a tingle of life enter her skin.

For a protracted moment, no one spoke, each regarding the others in the flickering light. With a gloved hand, Johnny reached out into the night, surprised when his fingers stopped at the unseen wall. The Juggernaut broke the silence. "Should we be concerned about using up the oxygen in here?"

"I've left an aperture at the top of the dome. It will be adequate for air exchange." Doctor Storm replied.

"Invisible igloo. Cool." If the teenager's observation was intended as a pun, neither she nor her companions made any mention of it. Madeleine gathered her knees close to her chest and hovered in a cannonball pose, keeping the hand with the spouting fireworks extended toward the middle of the group.

Rogue pushed her hood back onto her shoulders and ran a gloved hand through her hair. "Can we take a few minutes to catch our breath? I'm still trying to wrap my head around… any of this." Her voice was husky but carefully level, betraying little in the way of emotion.

Bishop instinctively looked to Susan Storm, who nodded pensively. They stood in silence for a minute or more, enjoying the crackling heat of Madeleine's polychromatic firework display. Bishop pulled her 7D off of her bandolier and snapped it open. She permitted herself a small sigh of relief: at least it was working again. This iteration was not in its database, but that was no surprise. The information on its small readouts could still prove helpful.

"We're on Earth," she announced to no one in particular. "In the Himalayas, what's probably China. 2016, by Mu Calendar."

Doctor Storm stepped in close, craning her neck to look at the compact-sized computer. "This device tells you that?"

Bishop handed it to her without a second thought. "My seven-dimensional compass. TVA standard issue. Tells you where, when and in what iteration of what dimension you are-at least, the best estimate."

Susan's eyes flicked hungrily over the readouts on the small display, "Does it have information on this specific universe?"

"Afraid not. There are thousands of worlds in our database, but compared to infinity…"

"...that's essentially nothing." the physicist concluded. "Still, a very useful device."

She handed the silver box back to Bishop, and nodded to the golden Tallus on her wrist. "Do you have any idea how to use that one?" Bishop could only shake her head, tight-lipped. She returned the 7D to its hanger and examined the new ornament more closely. Apart from glittering in the firelight, it gave away nothing.

Gathering her cloak beneath her, Rogue sat on the snow. "Anyone else hoping this is just a bad dream?"

"I'll say," answered Johnny on the Spot. He pointed a gloved finger at Bishop. "Accordin' to her, I'm about five thousand miles and... a hunnert and thirty years from where I had breakfast this mornin'. I knew this world was fulla strange things, but this…" he concluded his statement with a low whistle.

"I think we're all a little out of our element, here… with the possible exception of Officer Bishop," Doctor Storm reminded them. "I believe the first question we need to ask ourselves is whether we believe this 'Timebroker' at all."

"It wouldn't be unfathomable that someone could fake this whole thing," contributed Stark. "Mephisto… or Nightmare."

"Mastermind… Mysterio…" continued Rogue, dully.

"But why strangers from alternate realities?" pressed Susan, undeterred.

"For all I know, you're all figments in this fantasy, created to confuse me." There was an edge of annoyance in the Juggernaut's voice that raised goosebumps on the back of Bishop's neck.

"Same to you, big guy," countered Madeleine with a smirk.

"Thinking solipsistically is unlikely to get us anywhere," Storm addressed them both, affecting a placatory tone. "As improbable as it may seem, I believe our best course is to trust the information of our senses and proceed on the assumption that all of this rea…"

The sound of Susan's words was lost in a crackling hum as Bishop's senses were commandeered. Stuttering snippets of words, and flickers of images like changing too fast between telesensor channels washed over her mind. "Wait… I- I think the Tallus is trying to tell me something." Shard's own voice seemed distant, but through her physical eyes she could see the others watching her with concern. Squeezing her eyelids closed, she tried to focus on making sense of the jumbled perceptions. Gradually, a message began to emerge, like a picture made up of hundreds of smaller pictures, like a conceptual symphony. When she grasped the chord, with a sharp sense of relief, the images disappeared from Bishop's senses.

"'Take the Great Refuge to the moon.' That's what it said we have to do."

"Are you alright?" The Juggernaut's millstone voice was soft with genuine concern.

"Yeah, fine, it's fine now. I'm sharp. Rotten way to send a transmission, though." Bishop gingerly fingered the Tallus on her wrist. Now it was as unresponsive and inscrutable as it had ever been. The others were still watching her. "Anyone know what it means?"

Susan Storm replied, "The term 'Great Refuge' likely refers to Attilan, the secret home of the Inhumans. The directive to take it to the moon makes sense, as a similar event occurred in my world."

"We have to take this place- Attilan- to the moon?" prodded Bishop.

"That's kinda otherwise," opined Madeleine. She stretched out her legs and traded the job of producing a flame from her left hand to her right. "In my world, Attilan's been on the moon since, like, the eighties."

"In mine the exodus occurred in 2004," added Doctor Storm, pensively.

Johnny on the Spot swept the hat from his head. Though the black dot that covered his face revealed no emotion, his voice registered pique. "Can I just remind everyone that I have no goldurned idea what any of y'all are talking about? If we're supposed to be in this together, will y'all quit talking over me and fill me in?"

There was an exchange of abashed looks. Doctor Storm took the initiative to speak. "I apologize, Mister Ohnn. We are in an unusual circumstance and I'm still struggling to make sense of it all myself."

"There's a lot we don't know, Johnny," joined Rogue, standing up and brushing snow from her legs. "For instance, before we go rushing off to the moon or whatever, I'd like to know who this team is...what they can do. The Timebroker's little newsreel didn't give us enough to put together any kind of strategy." She looked directly at Doctor Storm as she spoke.

Storm rose to the challenge. "You want to know my powers. Very well. I can emit a kind of cosmic energy that bends light, effectively making myself or other people and objects invisible to most forms of visual detection. I can also generate and manipulate solid shapes composed of force, such as the walls of this 'invisible igloo.'"

"How long can you keep it up?" Rogue pressed her.

"My precise endurance depends upon how much pressure I must exert. Against a wind like this, a long time. Perhaps a few hours, if I needed to. Against the onslaught of a Hulk or a-" She paused, momentarily casting her gaze toward Stark. "-Colossus… Seconds. A minute at most. Any other questions?" After a silence, "Very well, moving on. Madeleine?"

The teenager rolled her eyes. "Only my dad calls me that. Just call me Maddie or Skyrocket. Anglos never pronounce it right anyway. Uh… I fly and throw fire. Clearly."

Maddie had a direct, unpretentious manner that Bishop liked. The girl reminded her of her own brother. And, Bishop thought to herself, the pyrotechnics that the she effortlessly produced from her open hand were beautiful… though Shard Bishop had always been a fan of light shows.

"I'm a photokinetic," Bishop offered, not waiting for her invitation. Taking in, without surprise, the uncomprehending glances that the declaration elicited, she elaborated. "I absorb energy from light and project it back in other forms. Heat, sound, concussive force…"

Rogue indicated the silver bandolier across Bishop's chest. "Any more handy gizmos we should know about on that utility belt?"

"Besides the 7D? A voice log recorder, a couple of flashbang grenades, a smoke bomb, and spare parts for my sidearm. Which is, itself, a useful tool- it's specially made for me, and channels my energy output, so it doesn't need a battery or ammunition." Bishop drew the long-barrelled energy pistol and held it flat on her open palm as illustration.

"Nothing that can transport through time or dimensions?"

Bishop sighed. "No. We have them at the TVA, but I didn't have one on me when I got… unhinged. I guess the Timebroker didn't want us to have a way off this boat."

"Figures." The mercenary shook her head, sucking silently on her teeth. "What about you, cowboy?"

"Me? I can toss out these spots." He demonstrated by opening four circular portals in the air around the group. They hung indifferently in midair, each a two-dimensional plane the size of a serving platter at a different angle relative to the ground. Each was simply black, lacking any trace of color or the stereotypical swirling of an interdimensional portal.

"By linin' 'em up on the other side, I can make things come out wherever I want." This, he illustrated by putting his right arm through the nearest portal, withdrawing it, and then plunging it in again. Each time he did so, his hand and forearm emerged from a different one of the other portals.

"Neat trick," mused Stark. "It must kill at parties."

Without response, Johnny withdrew his arm and closed the portals. He faced the others blankly, his right heel digging idly in the snow.

"Can those portals only be used for short-range transportation, or can you go further? Say, a few miles?" Susan posed the question with the intense interest of both an experienced academic and an aspiring tactician.

"Sure, but if'n I can't see where I'm going, I'm liable to shoot pretty wide of my mark."

She nodded, considering. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, she turned to the Juggernaut. "Stark?"

"Oh, well, I'm strong and just about invulnerable, and I wish you'd call me Tony. My gauntlets and boots project repulsor beams which let me fly and can be used as weapons. Oh, and my powers are enhanced by momentum- once I get going, on the ground or in the air, next to nothing can stop me."

Rogue's eyes flashed and she almost stifled a snort. "A flying Juggernaut?"

"Your Juggernaut can't fly?" The industrialist seemed genuinely surprised.

"Nope. Iron Man can, though."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you later." The former X-Man smiled grimly to herself. Bishop watched her without amusement.

"That just leaves you, Rogue."

Rogue turned to Bishop and answered flatly "When I touch people, I take their powers and memories. Just for a short time, unless I hold on too long, but that can… it doesn't end well."

Bishop pressed her. "How long can you keep a power you've stolen?"

"Safely? Two, two and a half minutes."

"And what happens to the people you touch?"

"They're weakened, lose whatever power I take. Sometimes they pass out for a little while." She paused, waiting for the interrogation to continue. At Bishop's silence, she added "I also have eidetic reflexes- meaning that whatever I see someone do, I can do."

"Stolen from Taskmaster, like the Timebroker said? How is it you've managed to keep that ability so long?" Had she been asked, Bishop would not have been able to say why she pursued the issue so acidly. Her own voice reverberating off the invisible walls of the bubble sounded strange.

The mercenary's steely gaze became molten and she advanced on the TVA officer "I held on too long. Now his brain's a cabbage and I'm stuck with his power and his memories for good. You want to make something of it, Time Cop?"

Somehow her teammate's sudden advance took Bishop by surprise. She was certain that a fight had not been what she was looking for. Susan intervened before the situation could degrade any further, breaking the eyeline between Bishop and Rogue with her own head.

"That's enough," she scolded. "I'm sure we all recognize that we're overwrought, but we needn't indulge in the cliche of turning on one another. Tone aside, Officer Bishop was asking questions that interested all of us. We can address personal courtesy at another time, but for now are there any other pressing strategic questions?"

Maddie raised her free hand like a grade school student. "I don't know if this counts, but I have to go to the bathroom."

Unclenching her jaw for the first time since Bishop had begun grilling her, Rogue turned away with a dry laugh. "Can't get much more pressing than that."

Even Susan allowed herself a tiny quirk of a smile. "I suggest you find some cover and take care of your needs, Skyrocket. Does anyone else require a... break before we set off?"

There were no responses to Doctor Storm's inquiry. Bishop suddenly felt a cutting wind in her back as the invisible force that had been shielding the group fell. A small amount of snow that had been blown onto the wall itself scattered into the melting snow at their feet, and Madeleine Beaubier-Storm zipped off into the night like a dragonfly. When the shield rose up again, Bishop instinctively began producing heat from the photonic energy she had accumulated in the colorful light from the teenager's hands. The air inside the bubble quickly began to warm up again.

There was a long silence. Bishop self-consciously avoided watching Rogue, but found that she had nowhere better to set her eyes in the dim light. Johnny's eyes were utterly indiscernible, and Stark's were scarcely better. Doctor Storm was looking up at the stars through the invisible shield, to all appearances unconcerned with what her companions were thinking. The scientist cleared her throat.

"In my world, Attilan was in the Himalayas for a time. Unless anyone has another idea, I propose that we make our way to the location of my Attilan. It seems probable that this world's Attilan would be in the same place. In any case, it's as good a place as any to begin searching. Any objections to that course?"

There was no immediate opposition to the idea. "Good," she continued. "I was able to make out our latitude and longitude on Officer Bishop's compass, and I remember the coordinates of Attilan from the times that I visited there with the Fantastic Four. From that, all it takes is simple geometry to know that Attilan- or at least, the location it occupied on my world- is approximately five and a half nautical miles east by north… which, based on the location of the pole star, is that way."

Bishop's eyes followed Doctor Storm's outstretched arm into the rugged mountains and the starlit night. All at once, the thinness of the air at this altitude became oppressive and she sucked in a breath to stave off light-headedness. She did not relish the idea of slogging six or seven miles through the snowy mountains.

"It seems to me that we're working on the basis of a lot of assumptions," Stark mused, "but, like you said, Doc… it's as good a place as any to start looking."

A flare of colored light just outside the bubble of invisible force informed the assemblage that Maddie had returned. Bishop gritted her teeth, and the wind once again bit into her skin.

"Tony-" began Doctor Storm, her voice raised against the rushing wind.

"Yeah?" answered Rogue. She caught herself just as Susan's head snapped to face her. The beginnings of a surprising blush darkened the mercenary's cheeks. "I- never mind. Go ahead."

The Juggernaut interjected a placating voice into the momentary awkwardness. "What can I help you with, Doctor?"

"I've been thinking about how we can travel most efficiently under these conditions. Would I be right in assuming that your mystic power protects you from this cold?"

Stark flashed another wide, toothy smile. "You certainly would."

Scarcely a minute later, five of the conscripted companions were lifted into the night sky in another bubble of invisible force. The bubble perched on top of the Juggernaut like a howdah, and rocketed with him as he was propelled forward by a burst of crimson fire from the heels of his boots. Bishop pressed her hands and her forehead against the side of the bubble, and watched the landscape rush past in a dizzying blur.

The invisible wall warmed immediately under her touch, and for a moment she felt herself relax. From somewhere in the sweeping chaos of her mind, the TVA officer emerged and began to parse the situation. She was in an unknown iteration, cut off from her fellow officers and most of her tools. That much, at least, had been covered by her training at the Authority. The experience of being yoked to five complete strangers and a mission with disturbingly vague parameters was new, as was the curiously compelling agency that assigned the mission, but the essential principles of working in strange worlds and times were unchanged. Plan ahead. Practice discretion. Support your partner… partners. Complete the mission. Deep breath, Bishop. There's nothing you can't handle.

As if to give lie to her self-assurance, the landscape shook with a rumbling thrum so loud and deep as to be felt even in an isolated force bubble in mid-air. Before the astonished eyes of the assembled superhumans, a colossal span of rock and snow rose from some hidden valley out of sight and hovered at the level of the highest mountain peak. It betrayed no visual sign of the power that lifted it; only the incessant thrumming pressure that shook snow from the mountainsides. On the upward face of the rock expanse stood a city, small but magnificent. Its alien architecture had a beauty to rival the techno-skyscrapers Bishop's own time. The city hovered four seconds, maybe five, before streaking off toward the eastern sky at an incredible speed.

"Attilan! Go after it, Juggernaut! We must overtake it!" Bishop seriously doubted that Stark could hear Doctor Storm's shouted words. She could barely hear them herself over the pounding hum of the city's engines, and she didn't have to contend with the wind or a wall of invisible force between them. In any case, he must have had the same idea, because he adjusted his course and, with a flashy burst from the soles of his feet, redoubled his speed.

"Guess I shouldn't have taken that bathroom break!" Maddie Beaubier-Storm shouted, to no one in particular. Below them, the rugged terrain passed by in a desperate blur.

Bishop could see the strain that creased Susan Storm's face as she struggled to maintain their bubble of protection at the incredible speed. Her dark eyes snapped back and forth between the physicist's face and the flying city which did not appear to be getting any closer. "We'll never catch up to it," she said out loud, though she did not expect anyone to hear her.

Bishop whirled. "Johnny, can you get us in front of it?"

To his credit, the bandit was only momentarily surprised. He tipped his hat back with one thumb and gazed inscrutably ahead. "I reckon I can," he called back.

With no further word or gesture from Johnny on the Spot, a circular portal stretched open in front of them, black on the black night. Without hesitation, the Juggernaut plunged them into it, emerging a millisecond later to a view nearly identical, but notably lacking their vast quarry. Bishop, Rogue and Skyrocket rushed to the back of the bubble to see the Great Refuge behind them and gaining. Stark pitched upward and in a moment, the assemblage was over the streets of Attilan.

The Juggernaut landed in the street with sufficient delicacy as to make only a few small cracks in the stone, and the invisible howdah lowered itself to the ground before passing out of existence. The sound of the engines was somehow less overwhelming in the city itself than it had been before, but the shriek of wind rushing through the buildings was nearly as disruptive. The streets themselves appeared empty.

Doctor Storm caught Johnny on the Spot by his shoulders and shouted something that the others could not hear. She pointed to a large, high window set in the largest tower at the center of the city. Obligingly, a spot tall enough for any of them to walk through appeared over the street, and Susan waved to indicate they should pass through it. Rogue was the first in, followed by Madeleine. Bishop hesitated only a moment before following into the space-black portal.

The transition from the dark and roaring night to the comparatively silent tower room was abrupt and left Shard Bishop's ears ringing. She stepped away from the Darkforce spot and made an instinctive situation assessment of the room in which she found herself. Including Skyrocket, Rogue, and herself, there were thirteen in the room. Four she recognized as the Fantastic Four from her own world's history: Reed and Susan Richards, Jonathan Storm and Benjamin Grimm. The other six, she reasoned, must be the denizens of this city, whom Doctor Storm had called Inhumans.

They mostly looked human enough, excluding the pug the size of a DOVA shuttle. Two seemed to be women, one statuesque with an impossible volume of bright red hair, the other young and bright, with blonde, close-cropped hair. The three men were even more varied: one small and lean, his head shaved; another scaled all over like a reptile. The final Inhuman was a tall and powerfully muscled man, sheathed head to toe in a shimmering black material.

As the last of her companions hurried through the portal, Bishop stepped forward, her empty hands held out from her sides. "Everyone try and stay calm," she said, her dark eyes seeking out contact with as many of the room's occupants as she could manage, "We're here to help."

A few pairs of eyes turned to Bishop at the sound of her voice, but most were focused behind her, at the Juggernaut and, naturally, the second Invisible Woman. Mister Fantastic's neck craned forward a meter and he blinked his eyes heavily as if to clear them. "Susan? But… how?"

With a supercilious frown, Doctor Storm stepped forward. "Calm yourself, Richards," she chided. "I'm not your Susan." She left the words hanging a little longer than a standard dramatic pause. The walls of the wide room seemed to be made up entirely of windows and large banks of computers. For this time in Earth's history, the computers seemed well in advance of human technology and yet somehow terribly archaic, with spinning reels and innumerable blinking lights. "We've come from another reality, and we're only here to help you get this city to the moon," Doctor Storm continued at last. "Then we'll be gone."

Reed Richards' elastic eyes remained wide with wonderment, and for a moment the excitement of questions bubbling within his powerful brain was practically palpable. All at once he caught himself. "The moon? We aren't going to the moon. Our destination is South America, the Andes mountain range."

"It seems that someone has another idea. Medusa, Black Bolt," Doctor Storm addressed two of the Inhumans, the red-haired woman and the man in black, "we have been sent here to deliver Attilan to a new home on the moon. I can give a little more explanation, but I suspect our time may be short, so I must ask you now: are you amenable to this?"

The red-haired woman looked to the man, but no words passed between them. They watched each other carefully for several interminable seconds. The silent gaze between them was interrupted by a sudden, violent quaking of the whole tower that threw most of them to the floor. The computers that ringed the walls shrieked and sparked, and sections of lights began to flicker out. The incessant hum of the engines, already far more muffled than it had been outside, spun down and stopped. There was, for a time, the sickening sensation of falling.

Then Attilan crashed into the sea.

 **To be continued...**


End file.
